Summary: Myron and Zeke are left to deal with the surprise in "Brother art thou".

The brooding young man sat in the late afternoon shade, watching the wolves though eyes that weren't really seeing the world but turned inward. He was a large, handsome man in his thirties with dark brown hair and eyes that were shockingly blue next to tanned skin. His normally friendly face was a stone mask that made one feel as if the wrong predator was roaming free instead of locked behind a cage. There was an intensity about him that made people walk wide of him and those that normally preyed on the helpless looked elsewhere instead.

The wolf pack mostly ignored the humans that paced outside their cage and concentrated on the pack, except for two male members who sat apart. They were both young, beautiful, fierce animals that prowled back and forth caressing each other as they studied the young man resting in the shade. The smaller of the two was golden in color with eyes of brown velvet with a tinge of bronze. He didn’t appear to be as agitated as the slightly older and larger wolf. After a time he lay down quietly and allowed his companion to determine if the young man posed a threat. Though the young wolf appeared to be resting, its powerful body was ready to defend its companion and pack from danger.

The larger, older wolf appeared almost black with large hazel eyes and constantly checked up on its companion by smell. He showed his affection for the other by licking, applying little nips and gentle nudges which the golden wolf seem to enjoy and return. As the darker wolf finally determined the young man wasn’t a threat to its mate or the pack, he spooned up behind his lighter companion and rested his head on his mate’s neck.

The golden wolf shifted its body so that it was comfortably resting against his darker companion and lower his head to his paws. Both wolves fixed unwavering gazes upon the young man facing them.

ZEKE POV

It all started for me the moment that Myron's plane was out of sight and I knew that he was gone. Gone from this stupid war, gone from Vietnam, gone from my life. It was hard to see him go, but I'm glad that the kid got out alive and in one piece.

I felt the same way when McKay left, but then I had Myron to help me get over the loss of that cocky L-Tee. Now I have no one to help me but Taylor and Hockenbury, but not for long. L-Tee got Hockenbury transferred to a NAV hospital before he left. Myron wanted to get Hockenbury out of the field where he didn't belong to where he could do the most good without putting his life or anyone else’s in danger. I was proud of him for doing that.

In the days and weeks that followed I found myself walking towards Myron's hooch to talk over the day; looking for him at briefings, and I found myself searching every Lieutenant's face looking for him. But he was gone and there was a hole in my heart and mind where Myron used to be. I strangely enough wished that McKay were still here, for he had a way of cheering me up. He had a mischievous streak a mile wide and a laugh that was infectious.

Poor kid, everyone thought that McKay was an arrogant and sly SOB and I have to agree because he certainly had his moments. Then there was the other side that Myron, the Team and I saw; the loyal, selfless friend that had pulled our bacon out the fire more times than we could count. Johnny took risks that the other pilots would never have taken for us grunts, earning all our respect. The other teams had picked up on how Johnny treated us and asked for him on retrieval. He was the only pilot jock that the grunts of Camp Barnett liked. This put him on the outs with the other pilots but he didn’t care and he enjoyed our company as we did his.

He was also a good friend for Myron and me. A lot a people though that Johnny and Myron couldn’t stand one another, but that would be the furthest from the truth. They had a lot in common; both were young, strong, good looking men that liked to discuss books, history, music and anything else that they could talk about. Johnny also allowed us to blow off steam and helped us work out any concerns Myron and me had about one another.

When Johnny left we both took it a little hard and we became even closer. But he never forgot us. Every month Myron and me got a little Johnny care package that arrived unopened to the camp. In it we each received a bottle of good booze, girly magazines and homemade cookies. In Myron’s package he included cigarettes and in mine a new fishing lure and a couple of outdoor magazines. He also wrote telling us about how well his leg recovered, about his job flying a helicopter for a news station in Los Angeles and him applying for a pilot license to fly for the airlines. Being Johnny, he wrote about the latest girl that he was seeing, the clubs, and LA in general.

How I wish they were both here, for my new L-Tee didn't have one quarter of Myron's ability or Johnny’s quick thinking and I had to baby sit him out in the bush. Then I had to put up with his arrogant, self-righteous attitude at base that he hadn’t earned, the little coward. It was a mutual decision not to have anything to do with each other outside the bush.

I was a good little soldier, making sure the men and I got back safe and sound. Until I was ready to kill the little creep when he wanted us to leave the wounded behind while we ran to the LZ. The little SOB wrote me up on disobeying orders when I refused. Then I got my ass chewed out by Colonel Stringer for not following orders of a superior officer - superior Jackass more like it.

I started to my hooch to keep myself from killing both those arrogant fools when Private Sterling told me that I have mail waiting for me. Curiosity helped dim the anger and frustration that have been growing in me since leaving the two Jackasses. I knew that it couldn’t be a Johnny care package and I wondered who’d sent me mail. When the private handed me my letters I was shocked, because I never had so many. Kate and Carol write once in a while and a few friends from the previous tours, but otherwise I never got mail. Being curious to find out who wrote me I picked them up. All ten of them were from Myron.

Anticipation burned in my heart as I took my letters and left to go to the old abandoned bunker where Myron liked to go and think. I wanted to be alone so that I could read his letters without being interrupted. I strode quickly though the camp looking as if I was on my way for a briefing so that no one would prevent me from reading Myron’s letters. I felt like I did as a child when I’d found enough money to buy a sweet or toy, something that was just for me and I didn’t have to share. Growing up in an orphanage everyone had to learn to share so you never had anything that you could call your own.

Making myself comfortable in the corner so that I’d have a good view of anyone that might come in, I sorted through them so that I could read the letters from the first to the last. Once I had them in order I shifted myself until I found a comfortable position so that I could read them. It felt like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one as I started to read his first letter.

He wrote of watching me stand as his flight left, of the flight itself, seeing his father for the first time in months. He told me everything as if he was still at Camp Barnett and he was sitting right beside me. It’s hard to explain, but I will swear that I could hear his voice and see him sitting here with me. I felt that everything was right with the world, for Myron was here. I had to smile as he asked after the men, what happened to today and any problems he should know about.

Each letter I read brought us closer together and the hole in my heart and soul was being filled by his words. He wrote of his father’s failing health, of what he did or saw that day that would interest me. Trying to give me a little reminder of what waited for me stateside. But he always asked me how I was and if there was anything that I needed to tell him about.

I felt myself growing calmer as I read and reread his letters. I must have stayed there for a couple of hours just enjoying the feeling of being close to him. Then the need to write to him overcame me. I wanted to tell him about the idiot L-Tee that I was assigned to and how Hockenbury and Taylor were doing. I left the bunker and made way back to my hooch eager to reply to Myron’s letters.

From that point ward on I checked every day for a letter. Some days there were none and the world was a little dimmer and flat. Then I’d go back and reread every letter again just to feel him near me. Then there were days when I would get two or three letters at once. I savored each letter, saving them as a miser would money for when there were no letters.

Some of the men asked me who my sweetheart was that wrote to me so faithfully, for how else to explain my behavior or the fact that I suddenly had mail when I got very little of it in the past.

How could I explain my behavior that those letters created?

I couldn’t tell them that the letters had become a lifeline between Myron and me or how they seemed to help me stay focused and grounded in the bush. Then there was the joy I felt picking up his letters so that I could disappear for an hour or two and get my sanity back after being debriefed. It was as close as I could to having him back here with me.

How do I explain my dreams about Myron?

At first they were simple dreams of friendship, of spending quiet days reading, fishing, and just simply being together with Myron. Then it all changed when I had a bad mission into the bush and lost two good men, and all I wanted to do was kill Stringer for his part in this mess or go AWOL just to leave all this behind. But then a letter from Myron appeared like a miracle and stopped me from doing anything stupid. The feeling of being caged and trapped disappeared as I read that letter and I swear that his scent seemed to wrap tenderly around my senses, filling me with desire and comfort. I wanted more of that elusive scent and I cupped the letter against my face, breathing in the aromas of the paper, ink, and something spicy that screamed Myron.

That night I started to dream of kissing that beautiful mouth, of making Myron sigh or growl in pleasure as I kissed every beautiful golden inch of his body. Watching those velvety eyes hooded with desire and love for me. The desire to feel his warmth, as I plunged in his body, and then to have him wrap those long, slender legs around me, holding me to him. Then to have him claim me, make me forget everything but him as he took possession of my body, heart and soul.

How do I tell them that I have fallen in love with a man?

I don’t.

I just let them make up stories and keep my letters and my love for Myron safely tucked away from the world.

Why did I accept being in love with another man so easily? Maybe experimenting with sex while sharing a room with five other horny teenage boys had helped. It could also be the fact that all my relationships with woman fell apart because something was missing from them, from me; or maybe it was the fact that Myron knew me better than anyone alive including myself. I in turn knew him and how he thinks, feels and reacted better than anyone else. There are no masks between us, just honesty and trust. I trust him with my life, why not with my heart?

With each batch of letters I received I would write back and try to offer support and advice to the man that I had fallen in love with. He wrote to me of his father’s final days and how they had become friends. I wrote back asking him to not hide himself away from the world but to live life. Live so that he could tell me what he had done and seen in the world. To become the bridge that would span the gap between him Stateside and me in Vietnam.

He told me of going back to school and how some bullies thought to intimidate him. The fools thought they could make Myron do what they wanted. I smiled and wished I had been there to see Myron take down those punks. Then I wished I could be there so that I could beat the crap out of the others that treated Myron like a pariah when they found out he was in special ops while in Nam. But then Myron wrote about how he met other Vets through that incident and how it helped him to adjust to being back stateside. I was happy for him.

It upset me that he seemed to have lost his dream of becoming a teacher because he felt that he had lost the patience to teach. Myron seemed to have picked up the same feelings of restlessness and the caged feeling that I have been having, but that seemed to change when he started to write a fictional novel based upon his experience in the war. His letters seem to come more alive as Myron continued to write his novel and I was thrilled by his new dream. Myron sent me excerpts from the novel asking my option, and I was blown away by it for it spoke about everything that we experience here in Nam. The loneliness of the nights, the adrenaline rushes while in the bush, and sorrow as you watch friends die before your eyes. This novel would speak to everyone who’d ever fought in a war and I was so proud of him.

He then told me of reading his mother’s diaries and finding out that she did cheat on his father, and that he wasn’t the General’s true son. I didn’t know what to tell him, for on the one hand if she didn’t cheat then the man I love would have never been born and I would probably be dead by now. Then on the other hand, she destroyed a man’s love and self-worth because she got bored. I started to dislike the woman who sounded like a selfish, spoiled child instead of a grown woman. The same woman who had tied Myron in such emotional knots that it took me the whole time in Nam to straighten them out.

Myron then wrote for me to come and stay in New York for his graduation and stay the winter. Then in the spring we could travel around the country. Before I could stop myself I wrote to Myron that I would be happy to. I then realized that it would be heaven and hell at the same time to be near Myron but never to touch him. But it would be worth it just the same.

Then arriving home and having all my fantasies pale beside the reality of making love with Myron, nothing could have prepared me for that. The way that he worshiped my body and wooed my heart, telling me it was finished, that we were together forever. All I wanted to do was stay in bed for the rest of my life just holding and talking to him…but then everything went to hell.

I could not believe my eyes when the man that I’d last seen playing with his two children in Elizabeth, NJ was standing in the room and being introduced as Myron's father. I felt the world drop away from me and I gasped for air to help fight the darkness. This was the closest I have ever come to fainting in my life.

I felt Myron stiffen even before the introductions were done, both of us too shocked to do anything but look at the man that fathered both of us. When I saw him that first time I noticed how much I resembled my father. It was almost like I was a carbon copy of him except for my jaw and chin, which I got from my Mother. Myron didn’t look like either of us, but I have seen a picture of his mother and knew who he got his breathtaking looks from.

He seemed just as shocked to see me as I was to see him. Then his face lit up with joy as he made his way to the both of us and knelt down in front me. "Please tell me that your name is Clanton Ezekiel Anderson."

The hope that was in his voice reached me through my numbness and all I could do was nod. Then I found myself being embraced by a man that I though didn't want anything to do with me. Someone who’d abandoned my mother and me before I was born, but who was washing away that idea by the tears of joy that he was shedding and thanking God that he’d finally found me.

Sitting back, he clasped both Myron’s and my hands, the pure joy in his face at finally meeting his sons reflected in this voice.

I had worked out a lot of my anger at my father before I ever joined the army and I had accepted the fact that he didn't want anything to do with me. But that afternoon was an eye opener for all of us. Apparently my parents were having troubles and when Clanton found a job in California my mother decided that the time had come to get a devorce. She simply packed up her things and moved to Boise, Idaho to start a new life, but things didn't work out and I was given up to the state.

In the meantime Clanton tried everything to try and find us but with no success. After three years of searching Clanton join the army to fight in World War II and was shipped overseas where he was assigned to the motor pool. He was then notified about six months later that his ex-wife and child were killed in a car accident.

All that time I’d believed he didn't want anything to do with me, he’d thought I was dead.

He was discharged from the army and drifted around the country trying to find a purpose. That's when Clanton met Myron's mother Elizabeth at Fort Brad in Virginia. Clanton told Myron that he didn't know that Martin was still alive for she told him that he died overseas. Then one day Martin pulled into the gas station where Clanton was working at and saw a picture of them both in Martin’s wallet. Not being stupid he put two and two together and figured she was lying to him, so he dumped her. He left shortly afterwards, never knowing that she was pregnant.

Clanton told Myron that if he had known about him he would never have left. Losing one child nearly killed him and he would have never left another child willingly. He would have stayed and looked after him even from afar, but he didn't know.

After a few more years of drifting and repairing cars he got a job at the Durant Corporation where he met Natalie Sachse, only to fall hopelessly and madly in love. With her help he started to move up the corporate ladder and was now Vice President of Production. Then in 1956 the state of Idaho called and informed him that due to mismanagement of state files he was erroneously told that his son had died in October 1942, and they gave him the name of the orphanage where his son was living.

When Clanton contacted the orphanage he was told that his son had left and there was no way to contact him. He asked if there were any pictures of his son and was sent two, which he used to try to find me. He then pulled out a worn picture of me from his shirt pocket to show it to me.

That afternoon I was given a second chance to have a father, but my lover, which I love with all my heart and soul, was in fact my brother.

Clanton, our father, wanted to have a relationship with both of us, but only if we wanted to. He told us both that he would understand if we didn’t want one but would leave it up to us. He then gave us his phone numbers and home address so we could contact him whenever we were ready.

When Myron and I left the building I told him that I need time to think and I would find my way back to his home. I thought for sure that he would argue with me, but instead he wrote his address down – like I could ever forget it after addressing letters to him for six months – and his phone number. Myron then searched my face as if it would be the last time he would see me. He then turned away and left me standing there, watching him go.

Somehow I found my way to the Zoo and just sat there watching the wolves as they watched me. Trying to figure out what to do about this mess.

*

I looked up as a group of university students stopped near me with notepads in hand, listening to an older man who was lecturing them. I’d dismissed them, wanting to wallow in my depression and trying somehow figure out what to do, when my attention was caught.

"... homosexual tendencies have been observed in the wild among many different species. Which raises an interesting point in that homosexuality might be the result of genetics. Now if I can direct your attention to the wolves. As you can see, two of the pack have formed a partnership; but what you can't tell is that they are both male and are born of the same mother. I have named them Aries and Mars."

A petite blonde raised her hand and asked, "Sir, were Aries and Mars raised together?"

The professor answered her, "Good question Ms. McCloud. They were actually raised apart and have only been introduced a year ago. Now as I was about to tell you, their relationship has only started about six months ago."

Another student raised his hand and asked, "What was the catalyst that triggered the change in their relationship?"

"Very good, Mr. Malone, apparently the Metro Zoo in Washington wanted to introduce new blood into their wolf pack and asked that Mars be sent to them. Both Mars and Aries stopped eating, wouldn't interact with the pack and were generally depressed. When the Zoos found out that both animals were exhibiting the same symptoms it was decided to ship Mars back. Since then they have been inseparable and will fight if separated. Now, ladies and gentlemen, if we can get back to the subject at hand I pose two questions to you. The first is, if homosexuality is found in nature does that mean that we should accept it in mankind? The second is, because man understands the concept of amoral behavior – in the sense of knowing right from wrong – can and should he resist the possible genetic aberration in his makeup?"

Another student asked, "Sir, are we also going to study the incestuous relationship that these wolves are exhibiting?"

"No, Mr. Tan. That will be saved for later on in the course, but if you are interested in this topic I would suggest you read Incest: The Nature and Origin of the Taboo by Emile Durkheim. It's an earlier work in this area of study. But the social sciences, including but not limited to Psychology and Sociology, have all studied this topic. Also the hard sciences have been interested in the ramifications of inbreeding, which is not a concern with a homosexual incestuous relationship." The teacher paused, pondering something before continuing. "There is a colleague in California studying the sexual reunification of adult siblings which is more in keeping with the Aries and Mars situation. His preliminary findings may help us to better understand the underlying causes as to why a small portion of reunited siblings get involved in an incestuous affair. His name escapes me at the moment, but I will check to see where you can read his reports."

I could not believe how their discussion seemed to have locked onto my problem, and as I listened there was only one solution. Myron and I must end our love affair. The memories of last night will probably keep me warm during the long lonely nights ahead, but that would have to be all. Last night we didn’t know of our blood, but to continue it would mean that we choose to break every rule society has regarding incest. Especially with Myron’s writing career taking off, this could damage it and destroy him and he would be subjected to scorn and ridicule. I would not allow that to happen. I have to be strong.

It’s the only decent thing to do.

We both have to move on and find someone else, be it man or woman, and just enjoy being brothers. I will always love him, but it could only be the love of an older brother to a younger brother. Since I am the oldest I have to do what is right for my little brother.

Myron!

OH GOD!

WHY HIM?

WHY US?

My mind kept rewinding to last night and how right it felt to make love with Myron, but I ruthlessly squashed that feeling of want. I would never regret that night and I hope that Myron won’t either, but it could never be repeated. I will see to that.

*

It took me a while to admit that I had no idea how to get back to Myron’s house. I surrendered and hailed a taxi to arrive just after dark with no idea how to tell Myron that it has to end. My knees started to weaken as I started up the stairs to the front entrance. I’ve never fled a fight in my life, but now all I wanted to do was to run…and I couldn’t.

The house seemed dark and lonely, like Myron’s eyes the last time I saw him. A faint light was coming through the front windows and I knew he was home. I took a deep breath of the cooling summer air to gather my courage before ringing the doorbell. It seemed like I waited forever for Myron to answer. At first I feared that he was refusing to answer the door, not wishing to see me. Then another fear hit me.

NO!

There’s no way he would!

But his mother did!

All I could see was Myron lying dead in the tub with slit wrists. Blood turning the water a sickly pinkish red while a puddle of dark red pooled onto the bathroom floor.

I started to pound on the door. Fearing what I would find.

Then another picture appeared in my mind. This one of Myron looking like he was sleeping on the bed, but for the bottle of sleeping pills.

Just like his mother.

NO!

Panic set in and I was about to break down the door when Myron opened it. It was obvious that he had been drinking and the absolute hopelessness reflected in his eyes shattered my soul, but I had to be strong for both of us. I could tell that he had reached the same conclusion as I had.

He turned, dejection outlined in every muscle of his slender body, and headed back into the living room. He collapsed into the same chair we’d sat in yesterday together – when we were so happy – where he picked up the bottle of whiskey he had been drinking before answering the door and took a swig.

I closed the door and locked it before coming into the living room, which was in darkness, the only light coming from the fire in the fireplace. The room suited our mood perfectly and I sat down across from him on the sofa.

The firelight cast a soft glow over Myron and made him look like a tormented angel. He was so beautiful sitting here with the fire making his skin glow golden, his hooded eyes reflecting the flames and the tousled silk hair had me aching to sweep into my arms to make all the hurt disappear. It took all my strength not to touch him, but I had to be strong for both our sakes. I took a breath to tell him that it had to end when he interrupted me.

"It’s over isn’t it?" His voice was slurred a bit with the whiskey but the pain contained in it stabbed me to the heart.

"Yes."

Not looking at me he asked, "What now?"

"I … I don’t know."

A feeling a dread entered my heart. Maybe he didn’t want me around anymore. Maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with me now.

OH GOD!

Not to be able to see him or even to talk to him, that would destroy me. I need Myron in my life.

Taking a shallow breath I asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

He looked up startled. Panic flared into life in his eyes and colored his voice, "No! I don’t want you to leave!" Then he turned away as if ashamed of himself before continuing. "Unless you want to leave. I…I can understand … if you want to…"

"No… no, I don’t want to leave." Myron’s body seemed to relax at my reply, but that could just be wishful thinking on my part. "I’m still your friend and I … and I would like to try be your brother. " I swallowed before continuing. "If you don’t want to I’ll understand."

Myron glanced at me and with that sweet cynical half smile of his he replied. "I would like that … but it will take a while for the both us."

"Yes, but … this is the only way."

*

The next morning made me rethink leaving because Myron was driving me insane with desire. I came out of my bedroom intent on taking a shower when Myron opened the bathroom door wearing a fluffy white towel.

A very small fluffy white towel.

Correction a tiny, skimpy, fluffy white towel that he had to hold together by one hand leaving a gorgeous, golden, naked hip and flank exposed. He looked startled at seeing me and the towel sagged a bit before he tightened his grip. He lowered his eyes and didn’t lift them till he reached his bedroom door and was in the process of shutting it when he looked up and locked gazes with me. The desire revealed in his eyes was only cut off by the closing of his door. Before I knew it I had taken a step forward, but I stopped myself. This resulted in my first of many icy cold showers.

Other things seemed to gather my attention, like him bending over and showing me that perfectly rounded ass of his that seemed to tempt me as he tied his shoelaces, or the shorts that exposed his beautiful long tanned legs as he set out for his morning jog. Then when he returned from that morning jog, his sleek body soaked with sweat, skin flushed with exertion, and the smell of him was like a siren’s call beckoning me to take and taste him.

If he was driving me insane then by the look in his eyes when I catch him watching me Myron was having the same problem. We started to avoid each other as the days went by and tried to come to terms with the changes in our relationship. Myron bought me a map on how to get around New York so that I could take long walks to just get some type of peace of mind, but I was always followed by sad brown eyes filled with unbearable pain and loneliness.

Myron kept his appointment with the publisher and signed a contract for twenty-five thousand dollars as a bonus, plus a forty percent cut for the total profit of the book. Mr. Watters also contacted a friend in Hollywood to see if he would be interested in producing a movie based on the book. There was no word as yet, but I believed it would happen for him.

I continued to have very vivid and erotic dreams starring Myron as the main attraction and my subconscious used the memory of our one and only time together to made it more real. I started to avoid sleep so that I wouldn’t wake up only to remember that it could never be. From the looks of the dark circles under Myron’s eyes, I guess he was doing the same thing.

Then one day Myron received a call from, of all people, Johnny McKay. Apparently he’d just gotten a job as a co-pilot for American Airlines and wanted to see if Myron would mind putting him up until he found his own apartment. Myron agreed pretty fast, probably happy to have someone that could help us to take our mind off our situation. I also think that Myron had missed Johnny and would be glad to see him, and to be honest with myself I missed him too…but I had a strange feeling come over me when Myron told me about Johnny. It was the same feeling I’d had in Nam when something big was about to happen. I just hope that that some relief is in sight.